


The Planning is Everything

by peripety



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-07
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peripety/pseuds/peripety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post 5x13 fic. I know, I know: these fics have been done so much they're almost a cliche, but here is my take on what really happened to Brian and Justin when the series ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Planning is Everything

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/peripety/pic/000a1x3d/)

  
Amused at the start, and by the end slightly annoyed, Brian listened to the message on his cell phone a second time.

 __

Hello, Mr. Kinney. This is Jeanne Shalhope of Executive Realty New York. Your partner, Mr. Taylor, asked me to give you a call so we can arrange a time for you to view the Chelsea property. I think we both agree that it will be an excellent site for the New York office of Kinnetik. I’m looking forward to being a part of bringing such a premiere agency to the city. There are even some tax incentives on the property we can discuss. My number is…

Brian wrote down the number almost automatically, clicking off the cell as Cynthia dashed into the office to gleefully let him know Remson pharmaceuticals was on the line begging for a chance to humbly return to the Kinnetik fold. With that, the mysterious message was set aside until the evening when Brian could settle down on the sofa and put a call through to the person undoubtedly behind it.

“I had an interesting phone call this afternoon,” Brian said as soon as Justin answered his cell with his typical “Hey”.

“Brian, you really should stop calling the phone sex lines. It’s pathetic at your age.” There was a slight, considering pause. “Although, then again, _at_ your age…”

“Smartass,” Brian came back, smiling in spite of himself. “You know who it was.”

“Hmmm. The realty company, maybe?”

“So I’m moving Kinnetik?” The even tone of disbelief spoke volumes to anyone who knew Brian, but Justin had long ago stopped fearing the Wrath of Kinney…if he ever had.

“Not necessarily moving. You could decide to keep the Pittsburgh office, if you wanted. Cynthia or Ted could run it or something.”

“You mean I have some say in this? You haven’t mapped it all out for me?”

“Of course not,” Justin laughed, but of course he _did_ have it all mapped out…Brian just didn’t need to know that. Remaining unfazed by the sarcasm was part of the deal that came with being Brian Kinney’s partner and Justin had not only expected it but he had spent the last few weeks honing his strategy to get around it. “Ultimately, it’s your decision, but…” He trailed off, waiting for Brian to speak, but he didn’t. Instead, Justin heard the click of Brian’s lighter followed by a long, inward toke.

“Look, you were right,” Justin went on quietly once Brian didn’t respond. “New York is where I need to be right now, if being the best homosexual I can means I need to be true to myself. But it’s been eight fucking months, Brian, and I’m lonely as hell. I love you and I miss you and if I can’t be in Pittsburgh with you, then it seems logical that you should be here. With me.” And even if it was unintentional Brian nonetheless heard the ache in Justin’s voice and felt an echo of it inside of himself.

But Brian nonetheless quizzed, as if to refuse to allow the word _lonely_ to become part of his vocabulary. “How is it logical? My business – my life – is here.” He looked up, gaze straying to the tall windows of the loft where soft, pattering raindrops dotted, gathered, and then slowly ran down the glass.

“Are they?” Justin questioned, also having prepared himself to deal with this argument. “Gus is in Toronto with Linz. Your partner – that’s _me,_ in case you need reminding – is here in New York. Michael is still there in the Pitts with you, yes, but he has Ben and Hunter. There really isn’t anyone holding you back. As for Kinnetik…a quarter of your client list is already here in New York, so why not come here, too? You belong in New York.” Justin paused, then added provocatively, “Hell, Brian, four years ago if it hadn’t been for me you would have moved here when Kennedy and Collins made you that offer.”

“The fuck you say.” Brian sounded startled by that comment.

Keeping the laughter out of his voice with effort Justin insisted. “I know you told everyone the job fell through, but it was really because you were madly in love with me and couldn’t stand the thought of leaving me that you didn’t take that job.”

Justin listened to the resounding silence, then, from down the line, “You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“It’s true. I am.”

That finally brought a reluctant laugh from Brian as he recognized the lines being used by the smart-assed little shit at the other end of the phone.

“Haven’t we had this conversation before – in reverse?” he pointed out. Into his mind rose the memory of that cold snowy afternoon at Britin, making love in front of the warm fire. If Brian closed his eyes he knew he could see pale skin against a dusty white sheet, blue eyes lit with flames hotter than those illuminating the shadowed room, but then Justin’s voice on the phone pulled him back to reality.

“Brian. Listen to me. Are you listening?”

Recognizing _more_ all-too-familiar words he was being needled with Brian added, “You are so going to pay the next time I see you, you little shit.”

“Promises, promises,” Justin taunted, smug and secure in the hundreds of miles between them. “I’ll call Cynthia tomorrow and have her book you a flight.” He was breezily relentless and as unstoppable as any steamroller when he set his mind to something. “All you’ll have to do is pack a bag.”

So Brian packed.

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/peripety/pic/000a2sh9/)

“It needs a lot of work.” Brian made his first comment about the building as he, Justin, and the realtor finished the tour of the first floor.

“And the Pittsburgh office didn’t?” Justin questioned. His phrasing wasn’t lost on Brian, either, and he shot the smart-ass a pointed look. _The Pittsburgh office,_ Justin was defining, as opposed to _The New York office._ Justin grinned at Brian, but his cherub smile that didn’t fool anyone, least of all Brian.

Even the realtor didn’t buy it. She had quickly revised her understanding of Justin’s term _partner_ the minute she saw these two beautiful men kiss each other upon Brian’s arrival, standing pressed tight together and oblivious of the misty rain falling. But since that greeting they actually hadn’t said all that much to each other, making it hard for her to gauge the nuances of their relationship. The elegant guy wearing D &G was definitely the force to be reckoned with, but he was also attentively listening whenever the younger man in the t-shirt and jeans waved his paint-stained fingers to point something out or commented on some aspect of the old building.

“Luckily,” she said, putting aside the intriguing puzzle of Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor to concentrate on selling them the grand, Romanesque-style building, “the previous renovations didn’t touch the original structure and can easily work with whatever remodeling you decide on. You’ll be able to put your own stamp on it quite easily.” And she got the feeling that the formidable CEO of Kinnetik, Inc., would want to do just that. “Are you ready to see the second floor?” she asked, indicating the grand sweep of the staircase that was the focal point of the building’s lobby, for the moment ignoring the rather marvelous old elevator nearer to them in favor of the more impressive steps.

“Why not?” came the offhand and completely neutral acceptance of the offer from Brian. Without doubt, the realtor knew, he would be a tough sell and an even more ruthless negotiator. She was already looking forward to price-haggling with him – no doubt, it would be a challenge.

The second floor was much like the first, hopelessly outdated as office space and dusty with misuse. “Your office, definitely,” Justin murmured when they entered a huge corner room paneled in gold oak, possessing a rather magnificent black marble fireplace. He only grinned at the look Brian shot his way from under his lashes.

But it was the third floor which revealed the reason why this particular building appealed to Brian’s lover. Over half the floor space was given over to an airy, glass-paneled area that had obviously been used at one time as an artist’s studio.

“Just think how convenient it would be,” Justin murmured.

Behind him the realtor pulled the old-fashioned gate of the elevator closed after Justin’s requested that she give them a little time to explore on their own. As the elevator descended Justin stepped up behind Brian and rested his hands on his hips, his chin on Brian’s shoulder. “Anytime you wanted, you could run up for a quickie.” he suggested softly in Brian’s ear, smiling. Without the realtor’s presence holding him back his left hand slid over Brian’s crotch.

Brian turned in the circle of Justin’s arms, finding his lover’s mouth, tongue darting inside, exploring, dominating, taking back a little control of the situation so obviously and carefully orchestrated by Justin. Since Brian was a master at such arrangements he had to give Justin props for thoroughness but that didn’t mean he had to like it when the tables were turned. But the original intent of the kiss didn’t last long.

As usual, it was zero to sixty in a second and a half once they were touching, and while once Brian had taken these feelings – _Justin_ \- for granted, he didn’t, now, and hadn’t for a long time. His body responded to the touch it had been deprived of for weeks, but Brian wasn’t quite ready to accede to Justin’s manipulations. Except on his own terms. His mouth lifted from the curve that clung to his.

“True,” Brian said, speaking between flicks of tongue against the tip of Justin’s. He shifted his hips, hardness against answering hardness, rubbing suggestively even as he tilted his head, as if considering the possibility this arrangement presented while continuing the teasing friction. “But, Justin, are you sure you’ll be able to afford the lease on studio space like this…?”

“You shit!” Justin huffed on a laugh, smacking Brian’s ass. “It’s all part of the package.”

Laughing softly Brian let Justin go, point made.

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/peripety/pic/000a3t3e/)

Though it took effort, Brian released Justin and wandered through the space, examining cupboards and storage closets.

“There’s a small terrace through there,” Justin indicated, ruthlessly quelling his impatience with Brian’s deliberate nonchalance. It wasn’t easy when he was torn between hope, disappointment, and laughter, but he knew Brian well enough to know when _not_ to push. At the moment it wasn’t helping that he was fighting the needs of his body, wanting to go after Brian and satisfy the hum of want stirred from the moment of Brian’s arrival. It was a challenge, keeping his tone even, as he added, “It would be a perfect place to hold business receptions in the summertime.”

Brian didn’t respond immediately, continuing to open and close doors and peer into dark dusty recesses. Finally there was a sigh. “Britin would have to go. There’s no other way we could afford something like this,” Brian turned and looked directly at Justin.

“Maybe there’ll be another Britin. When the time is right for both of us.” Justin said, feeling the stirring of hope and possibility rising above the potential of failure.

“And then there’s Babylon. The reopening is set for next month…”

“But you don’t need to be there to run it. Brian, I’m not asking for you to give up your life…just…just live it here, with me.”

“You just want out of that roach-infested dump you’re living in.”

Justin laughed. “There is that. But, Brian. What I really want, is you. Who the fuck said that my being a success and our being partners has to be mutually exclusive?” he demanded. He paced – make that _stalked_ to where Brian stood to loop his arms around his waist, under the elegant jacket so his fingers could trace up Brian’s spine.

“I love it when you talk dirty, Sunshine.”

“I’m serious.”

“So’m I.” Brian paused, fiddling with an imaginary thread on the collar of Justin’s hoodie. “So I guess there’s only one other question before I can decide.” Brian looked at Justin with a half-smile on his lips.

“Which is?” Justin didn’t know what to expect, eying Brian suspiciously as he waited to hear what excuse Brian would come up with: what would reason enough to stay snug in the Pitts with Michael, the gang, and the pleasures of Liberty Avenue, rather than take a chance on this. On love.

Brian let him wait, going so far as to step away from Justin as if to consider another nook he found essentially important to examine before making this life-changing decision. Turning back, he saw Justin haloed by a shaft of sunlight streaming in from the tall windows, the morning rain passed. The boy had a definite knack for finding advantageous halos, Brian decided, and had since the first time he’d found a street light to linger under all those years ago on Liberty Avenue . That memory had Brian giving into the smile pressing at the curve of his lips. A brow arched. “Just tell me one thing. Is there a decent Thai restaurant nearby?”

“Brian,” Justin tried – but failed – to keep the smugness out of his tone and his grin. But he really _had_ covered all the bases. “Where do you think we’re having lunch?”

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/peripety/pic/000a4p48/)


End file.
